Elation
by mildlyholmes
Summary: "Is there a reason why you're naked in my bed?"


**A/N:** This is canon and disgustingly cute, and also NSFW with vague smut. You have been warned. Based on yet another prompt I received on tumblr of: "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?" and "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

* * *

He walked into the room, fully expecting to see his sheets turned down and his pillows unoccupied.

The sight that greeted him made him stop in his tracks.

Christine was there, lying on his bed, looking seductively tantalising and completely ravishing. Her chestnut hair was tumbling down her shoulders, thick curls soft to the touch and artfully arranged. Her lips were painted a deep red rose, her eyes lightly rimmed with kohl.

And she was wearing absolutely nothing.

A flush crept up the expanse of his neck, heating his face. Erik quickly directed his gaze away, fixing golden eyes upon the bedside table next to her.

Her voice was deep and smooth, immediately setting his insides on fire. "Hello, Erik."

"Christine," he swallowed, still refusing to look at her. He stared at the book perched upon his bedside table, its blue cover slightly worn from years of use. "Why…" He cleared his throat, and blurted out, "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Her laugh echoed through the room, light and sweet. For a moment, he forgot that the same woman—his student, his ingenue—was currently sitting on his bed, gloriously naked and draped over his covers invitingly.

She was going to murder him; he was sure of it.

"Straight to the point, Maestro?" she observed with her voice that was oh-so-sweet, warming his icy heart. When he didn't immediately respond, she shrugged, "Your bed is more comfortable than mine."

A frown tugged at his forehead. When he had set up her room in his home, he had ensured her comfort above all else. Only the finest furniture would do for her; the most fashionable clothing, the prettiest dresser, and the most cosy mattress.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, Christine. I could have a look at it, if you'd like."

In the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head. "No, please don't trouble yourself, Erik. Besides, I'm much too sore to walk back to my room. Is it alright if I stay here?"

 _No!_ he wanted to scream. His angel—his perfect, untouchable angel—was lying on his bed devoid of all clothing for some godforsaken reason, and he couldn't have her.

He gritted his teeth together, trying to form some sort of excuse for her to leave the room. The thought of her seeing the rather insistent bulge in his slacks seemed mortifying. "I think it would be best for you to, ah, return to your room."

He could almost hear her pout. "But I'm tired. Please, Erik—could I stay with you?"

Erik shut his eyes tightly, unwilling to succumb to her. Good god, was the woman mad? Did she not have any idea of what she was currently doing to him?

"Do you… well, I mean—" He shook his head, sighing through clenched teeth. "I'm terribly sorry about your pains, mademoiselle," he said sarcastically. "I do hope I can alleviate your soreness. A massage, perhaps?"

It was sarcastic. It was entirely, completely sarcastic, but Christine's gasp of delight told him that she hadn't taken it the same way. "Oh, would you please, Erik?" she pleaded— _begged_. "Your hands upon my skin would make me feel _much_ better."

Damn the woman—she was _definitely_ going to be the death of him.

Erik moved about the room, putting out the candles one by one, grumbling under his breath all the while. His erection was almost painful now he knew he would be touching her skin, his hands running all over the smooth expanse of her back, tracing her soft, supple flesh…

She was lying on her stomach when he finally dared to turn towards the bed. Her curls were gracefully brushed aside, leaving him a perfect view of her delectable back and derrière.

Once more, he swallowed, before slowly approaching the bed.

She sighed when he placed his hands on her back. When he began to soothingly rub, she let out a pleased mewl. Tracing circles upon her skin drew a long moan from her lips.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and by far the most cruel. He abruptly stopped his massage, sitting up on his knees.

"Why are you here, Christine?" he asked sharply. "And don't take me for a fool—I purchased the most comfortable mattress on the market for you."

Christine sat up, her back facing his front and heavenly bare. "I wanted to see you."

"That doesn't explain why you're nude, Christine."

She was silent for a moment, and Erik wondered if he had somehow pushed too far. Still, for the life of him, he couldn't have imagined _how_.

"I meant what I said just now," she said suddenly, and Erik frowned. "Your hands on my skin… I imagined they would feel pleasant. I was right."

His breath hitched. "Christine, don't…"

"Why not?" she interrupted, then in one glorious movement, turned to face him.

Her eyes were cobalt and fiercely shining. Her red lips were pressed into a frown, and her cheeks flushed and rosy. But he couldn't concentrate on that, not when her body was in plain view.

And _oh_ , her body.

Her neck was long and slender, a delicate curve trailing downwards to elegant collarbones and dainty shoulders. Her breasts were beautiful—rosy peaks of flushed crimson, curves that begged to be touched. Her stomach was flat and toned, evidence of her dancer's background, and her thighs were long and smooth.

There, hidden between her legs, was the dark patch he had so often fantasised about, right before his eyes. Erik felt his mouth start to water.

"You wanted me to… touch you?" he rasped, still looking at the hidden treasure between her legs.

Christine suddenly seemed unsteady. "Well, I…" she stammered, "yes. I do. But—only if you should want to."

"If I should _want_ to?" he said incredulously, his eyes darting up to meet hers. "You're truly wondering if I'd want to run my old, sagging flesh over your smooth, perfect body?"

"You're not old," she protested, a frown marking her lovely features. "You're hardly twelve years older than me, Erik. That's not terribly bad."

Erik had no response to that other than to stare at her once more. For a long moment, they seemed to hold each other's breaths, neither one breathing, neither one moving.

Then, he said dryly, "If you insist."

Moving in to kiss her was the most blissful feeling. It was an awkward touch of lips to lips, both inexperienced and without prior knowledge. Christine laughed against his lips and he pushed further, kissing her until there were no more laughs, until there was only her fingers grabbing at his hair and her mouth moving insistently against his.

And, well, Christine wanted him to touch her.

So touch her he did.

He ran his hands all over the body he had admired for so long, brushing and teasing until she cried out his name. He kissed down her neck, caressing her breast and kissing her breathless; then, when she begged for more, he moved his fingers towards the warm heat between her legs. She was slick when he touched her there, and their groans melted into one as he began to stroke her. He let himself be guided by the way she responded to him; rubbed at the spot to made her gasp, pressed into the flesh to made her moan, quickened his movements to make her cry out.

And perhaps she had wanted this as much as he had, because it didn't seem to take long at all; one moment she was begging, the next she was sobbing his name. Her flesh clenched around his fingers with a delicious tightness to it, one that made him throb inside his trousers at the thought of burying himself there. He eased her into her climax, pressing his deformed lips to her eyes, cheeks, nose, lips.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their gasps, bated breaths fusing into one. Erik withdrew his wet fingers from her, wiping them on the coverlet before running his hands once more up her torso, caressing her breasts. She was panting and flushed and still gloriously naked, and it was all for _him_.

"I was right," she said after a while, still panting. "Your touch upon my skin was _incredible_."

"Glad to be of service, mademoiselle," he chuckled, and she gave out a little giggle before speaking once more.

"It wasn't a service," she said playfully, before pushing him to rest on his back as she moved to straddle his hips. "I fully intend to repay the favour."

His smile was swallowed by her kiss.


End file.
